


Perfect Little Wife

by goblin



Category: SMAP
Genre: Comedy, Competency, Cooking, Domestic, Established Relationship, Gender Roles, M/M, So Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-04
Updated: 2007-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-19 20:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblin/pseuds/goblin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shingo may be domestic, but that doesn't mean he isn't manly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Little Wife

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Muffinbitch, who was my beta even while trying to move house!

Nakai opened the door, kissed Shingo hello with enthusiasm but disappointing brevity, then ran back down the hallway and out of sight into the kitchen before Shingo even had a chance to take off his shoes.  
Having divested himself of his trainers, Shingo padded down the hallway, wrinkling his nose. Was that burning he could smell?  
He entered the kitchen and went up behind Nakai, entwining his hands around the smaller man's waist and resting his chin on Nakai's shoulder. Nakai was staring at a piece of eggplant he was balancing on a spatula above a sizzling electric frying pan. He flipped it over, only narrowly avoiding depositing the eggplant onto the floor rather than back into the pan where it belonged, then peered at the other side in perplexity.  
Shingo kissed him gently on the side of the neck, then asked, "What are you doing?"   
"If neither side is cooked yet," said Nakai in frustration, "then why does it smell like it's burnt?"  
Shingo sighed, leant over, and switched off the gas on the stove.  
Nakai stared at the pot above the now-dead element and grabbed the lid off, excavating the contents frantically with a rice paddle to reveal crisp, blackened rice at the bottom of the pot and half-hard grains at the top.  
"Why didn't you just use the rice cooker?" asked Shingo, inspecting the woefully undercooked eggplant.  
Nakai's face was pathetic. "I broke it."  
Shingo burst out laughing. "Only you could manage to break something as simple as a rice cooker."  
"Don't laugh!" warned Nakai, brandishing the rice paddle madly and causing several grains of half-cooked rice to fly off and lodge themselves on the wallpaper. "This is serious! This is the low point of my cooking career!"  
"You don't have a cooking career," pointed out Shingo impudently.  
"Shut up." Nakai threw a murderous look at the failed rice on the stove. "Now I'm going to have to make it again... and what about the miso topping, I haven't even started that..."  
"That's gonna take way too long," said Shingo dismissively. "I'll just do it instead."   
"No!" Nakai struck a pose that might have looked heroic if he hadn't been standing in a kitchen holding a rice paddle. "I told you I'd cook a nice meal for you tonight, and come rain, hail or rice-cooker malfunction, I will!"  
"But you don't even _like_ cooking," said Shingo.  
"Irrelevant!" declared Nakai.  
Shingo rolled his eyes. "Just go and watch TV."  
"How irresponsible do you think I am?" said Nakai with an air of hurt pride. "Would I promise to cook for you then give up and let you do all the work?"  
"I wish you would."  
Nakai paused. "...Seriously?"  
"Yes, seriously." Shingo caught Nakai around the waist again and smiled ruefully down at him. "Thanks for trying and all. I just think... it'd be much, much easier if I fixed this up," and here Shingo kissed him, "and you got the hell out of my way."  
Nakai tried to scowl but his silly just-kissed smile was still evident. "Well if you're going to be like that," he said mock-grumpily, "I'll go and watch TV."  
So Nakai left Shingo to work his kitchen magic and started watching the baseball. He felt kind of guilty, but on the other hand it was also really damn nice to have someone else taking care of everything like that. Then he got caught up in the baseball and forgot about the whole thing until movement in his peripheral vision made him look over and see that Shingo was actually collecting stray DVDs from the living room carpet and putting them back into their correct cases.  
"Don't do that!" he said, jumping up.  
"Oh, do they belong on the carpet, do they?" said Shingo. "I'll put them back then." He threw a DVD airily across the room.  
"Why, you - !" Nakai hit him upside of the head.  
"Well where do you want them then, in the cases or on the floor?" demanded Shingo.  
"In the cases!"  
"Alright then!" Shingo haughtily retrieved the disc from the carpet and clicked it back into place.  
"But what I meant was – I meant – arghh!" Nakai made a gesture of frustration which unfortunately got a bit too close to Shingo's arm and then his hand ended up tugging on Shingo's sleeve gently and he just knew he had a completely idiotic puppy-dog expression on his face and couldn't stop it to save his life.   
Shingo, with an equally besotted expression, enfolded Nakai in his arms and kissed him and then he felt all etheric and floaty and got cross when Shingo had to go and turn off the rice.   
At last, the two of them sat down to a beautiful _nasu dengaku_ and a bowl each of perfect, glistening white rice. The miso topping was delicious, and the eggplant just the right level of melt-in-your-mouth creamy. It was heavenly, and Nakai ate every bite.  
"Dinner, baseball, and Shingo – three of the best things in the world," declared Nakai. "I couldn't be happier. Except – " Nakai stopped.  
Shingo raised his eyebrows. "Except?"  
"Nothing," said Nakai, wishing he'd stayed quiet.  
"Except?" repeated Shingo insistently.  
Nakai gave in. "It's these new pants," he sighed. "They're just too long." Nakai waved his feet, which were indeed covered by the pants almost as far as his toes.   
"I can take those up."  
"No, I'll just get them to do it at the shop - "  
"Don't worry about it. I've got a sewing machine, I can do it tomorrow."  
Nakai beamed. "Thanks, Shingo," he said. "You're... you're the perfect little wife."  
A look of absolute outrage formed on Shingo's face. _"Wife?!"_  
Nakai knew he was in trouble now, but he couldn't help continuing – it was just too funny. "Exactly! You cook, you clean, you sew – "  
Suddenly Shingo was inches away, his mouth menacing Nakai's ear. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard…"  
Alarm, amusement and arousal hit Nakai in quick succession. He tried to gather his wits. "That's not very, um, wifely," he said weakly.  
"Exactly... my... point," growled Shingo. And he picked Nakai up and carried him into the bedroom, where he proved his masculinity very decisively indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I used to think that nasu dengaku and rice would make a perfectly good meal. Sure, from my (non-Japanese, vegetarian) point of view, yeah - in reality this would be woefully inadequate to most real Japanese people. Where's the fish/meat/multiple side dishes?   
> Anyway, it's nice to know my cultural knowledge has improved.


End file.
